Come on, Spain—Connect the Dots Already

The bulls in Pamplona are running especially wild this year. For the first time since 1995, a runner has suffered fatal wounds during the Spanish town’s famed San Fermín festival, and another runner is in intensive care after being repeatedly gored by a runaway bull on Sunday.

I say to Spain—how many more of these stupid, stupid men have to die before you address this crisis? The evidence is staring you right in the face—you need to get those faulty copies of the new Dinosaur Jr. album off the shelves!

For you fortunate souls who haven’t yet had your eardrums violated by the manic squall of the latest J Mascis guitar solos, please read this announcement from the band’s Web site and this Guardian article on the emerging threat to the well-being of your pets and children.

As a fan of the band for 15+ years, I can vouch for the fact that even a properly mastered Dinosaur Jr. album can cause significant symptoms such as endocrine disruption. Is it a coincidence that I didn’t have a thyroid disorder before I started listening to them, but now I do? Pretty doubtful.

It’s not such a big deal for me—I take a low-dose replacement hormone for my rock-induced ailment. But I’m afraid it won’t be so easy for those listening to the copies of Dino Jr.’s album Farm that were mastered three decibels too loud. Reportedly, the disorientation and nausea begin as soon as the unwitting listener hits “Play.” Rumors are flying that prolonged exposure is leading to distorted vision, priapism, and increased aggression. The long-term effects are, of course, still unknown.

And that’s just in humans. Consider the bulls in Pamplona caught in the middle of that maelstrom of sound. Compounded with the confusion and fear arising from their forced participation in a silly, wasteful, destructive, anachronistic ritual, the poor beasts have no choice but to careen desperately through streets crammed with not-so-bright runners, themselves addled by the over-amplified guitar heroics.

No wonder people are dying. I say it should probably stop—do people deserve fatal puncture wounds just for being monumental idiots? I’m somewhat convinced they don’t.

There, Spain. I’ve given you the threat assessment. It’s time to take action.